


like I'm empty and there's nothing really real

by SmugglerofSass



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types
Genre: Concussions, Gen, and I'm projecting my own experiences too much, it's all over the place but it's intentional, or plot, or verb tense, this has no set time period
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-08
Updated: 2018-10-08
Packaged: 2019-07-28 00:31:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 462
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16230482
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SmugglerofSass/pseuds/SmugglerofSass
Summary: Don't get concussions, kids.





	like I'm empty and there's nothing really real

**Author's Note:**

> Some super personal shit I probably shouldn't even be writing, let alone posting. Cross posted from tumblr.  
> Warning: it may be a little intense.

When he woke he could focus on anything. He wasn’t sure where he was. Somewhere, there was someone moving, talking. He had no idea what they were saying but the voice was grating and he thought his head might explode. His brain cycles in circles, around, away, back. When asked he won’t remember the questions or his own answers. All he’ll remember is pain, strangulation, panic, claustrophobia. He wishes he could throw up or die, either would be acceptable. 

It goes black.

It is bright.

He can’t move, he’s panicking. 

Escape, he has to get out of here. 

Someone, something is holding him down. He is hyperventilating, thrashing against something. He heaves, desperate to expel - well he’s not sure what but there’s a bag -

Black.

Pain.

Black.

Arms he can’t move fight desperately, wanting to fight whatever is choking him, trying to drown him. 

Black.

He is crying thought he’s pretty sure there are no tears. He’s in so much pain and crying only makes it worse but he can’t control, can’t breathe.

There’s a man. He’s being moved. He asks questions, threatens the man, is gone again. 

Something hurts. It’s him. All of him. But if he could live without his head that would be the first to go. 

Lights hurt. Dark hurts. Sound hurts. 

He wants to die. 

He doesn’t know if he walks out of the room. He’s not even sure what happens after. 

He’s aware of a cool pillow. Pain. Discomfort everywhere he turns. His world is only agony. 

He can’t eat, can’t remember if he does. 

It hurts to move. It hurts not to move. It hurts to breathe. He wants to die. 

Nothing helps. Maybe he takes medication, maybe he wallows. It’s all the same. 

He remembers the same thing on the holo all the time. He’s not sure if it’s real or remembered. He’s not supposed to be watching the holo. But he’s bored and restless and it hurts too much to move. He’s not even sure he’s really watching the holo. 

He’s not sure of anything. 

He’s tired but he can’t sleep. It hurts to close his eyes. It hurts to open them too. No progress either way. 

In four days he will force himself up again. He’s only wallowing after all, he needs to get back. 

When people ask he won’t know, he doesn’t remember what happened, how he got there, what he was doing. 

Someone tells him he seized. He doesn’t know what to believe. 

His eyes will blur in tiredness and pain. He will function through pain that once made him want to die just to be released. He’ll keep moving. It’s what he does. It’s what he’s always done. After all, it’s just a concussion. It’s gotta get better.

Right?


End file.
